Of Honeybees and Heartbreak
by shraven
Summary: The Holmes brothers didn't always have such a broken relationship. When Mycroft comes home from university, he takes his little brother on a day trip to the city. Fluffy little one-shot with Kid!Sherlock and Teen!Mycroft, just a teeny dash of angst thrown in at the end.


"Are we there yet?"

I sigh, vaguely irritated by my younger brother's persistent questioning. It's a change of pace from a few moments ago when he was telling me about the mating habits of the Asiatic Honeybee, but not a change for the better.

"No, we're only marginally closer than we were when you asked that same question four minutes ago." I respond, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. He is only seven, after all, and I remember four minutes seeming like ages when I was that young. At eighteen, however, I am many times more patient than my young traveling companion. William groaned dramatically, slouching down in his seat and throwing his arm across his face in despair. Several of Mummy's friends maintained that he had the potential to be a great actor when he was older, if he didn't become a pirate, a ninja, a detective, or some unholy combination of the three, as was his current plan. If he succeeds the world is in trouble indeed.

"We've been on this train for ages." Will whines, poking me in the arm and tugging at a loose thread on the hem of his jumper.

"I'm going to die, Mycroft. Die of boredom. Goodbye, cruel world…." He punctuates his statement by falling out of his seat and onto the floor, where he rather convincingly impersonates a dead body. I can't keep a smirk from turning up the corner of my mouth.

"Brilliant. At least corpses are quiet." I proceed to prop my feet up on his torso, knowing he won't put up with this for long. Sure enough he soon begins squirming under my heels. "No, My, get off! I'm not really dead!" I chuckle and haul him back onto the seat, ruffling his dark curls fondly. He scrunches up his nose in a way that never ceases to be adorable, and yet he possesses a sense of pride far beyond his years, causing him to quickly adopt a composed expression. I suppose he gets that from me. With such a large age gap between us, most people would assume we have a rather distant relationship. Nothing could be further from the truth. I was enamored with him the moment he came into the world. I was only eleven at the time but already grasped the gravity of my new position in life. I took it upon myself to protect and care for him as long as I lived, and longer if I was able.

That is how we come to our current situation. I went off to university this year, and William saw this as the single most heinous betrayal ever committed in the history of mankind. His intelligence and eccentricities put him at odds with his peers, causing me to be his main companion and definitely the only one interested in his odd little experiments. So when I left, I suppose he saw it as my abandoning him for the foreseeable future. Because six months is a very long time when you're a hyperactive six year old. So I made him a promise before I left. I told him that when I came home for holiday, I would take him to the Science Museum in London and we would spend the whole day together. So when I came home a few days ago, he immediately reminded me of my promise.

"Are you excited to see the city?" I ask, hoping to keep him occupied until we reach our destination. My brother can be an absolute beastie when he's bored. I shudder at the unbidden memory of the dead frog in Mummy's kettle.

"I've seen pictures of London in my books. In Father's papers as well. But I'm excited to see it for myself. I'm going to live in London one day, you know." He says with a Cheshire cat grin. He turns to look out the window, watching the scenery become progressively more and more urban as we move away from the country side where he has spent his entire childhood.

"Do you think we can go see Scotland Yard?" He asks with an innocent tilt of his head. "I'd like very much to look at their files."

"Will, they don't let just anybody look at their files. Especially not silly little amateur detectives."

He considers this for a moment.

"Well, maybe if we just commit a tiny crime, just a little one, they'll arrest us and we can look around!"

"No, William, absolutely not. I'm fairly certain Mummy would disapprove of our getting arrested."

"But if it was just a little crime-"

"No. No crimes. End of discussion." I press my fingertips to my temples and wish, not for the first time today, that I had brought earplugs. I try desperately to change the subject.

"What are you looking forward to seeing at the museum?"

William turns back towards me, his glacier eyes alight with excitement.

"Oh! I've been doing research. I checked out loads of books form the library -I even borrowed some of Father's, but don't tell him- and I would like to go see the medical instruments first, those are very interesting…"

I find myself smiling fondly at him as he carries on about the different uses (some traditional and some frowned upon) of certain dissection blades. This is the side of William that very few people are privileged enough to see. Most see the quiet, odd little boy who reads books suited for children twice his age and collects plant samples to press between the pages. Only a select few people get to know the brilliant, passionate boy with a love of science. Yes, his interests tend to lean towards the macabre, but I've always supported that. I was the first person to encourage his constant questions, the only person willing to teach him the proper way to dissect a specimen, and in general I've been the only person to understand him for who he is. My cool and collected nature has always balanced his constant excitement, and yet we are so similar. Like ice and steam, we are two different forms of the same compound. I'm snapped out of my reminiscing by his excited voice.

"Mycroft! We're here! Look!"

I take his hand as we get off the train, not wanting to lose him in the crowd, and watch his enthusiasm with amusement. I myself have been to London many times, but watching him experience it for the first time shines a new light on the city.

Four short hours later, the two of us were sitting in the small museum café with cups of tea, William still buzzing with excitement and me trying to coerce him into eating something. I try to hand him a small cake, but he refuses to sit still. Ever since he could walk the boy has been in a constant state of motion, like a particularly mischievous electron. He swung his feet under the table as he munched his sandwich, looking around with bright, curious eyes. He tilts his head as he examines a man and woman chatting, and reaches over to tug my sleeve.

"Where's her ring, My?"

I turn my attention to the woman in question and smirk. Indeed the woman sported the signature tan line of a wedding band, and yet it was absent. Will shared my talent (gift? curse?) for noticing the infinite minutiae that, when interpreted correctly, could tell the story of someone's life as clearly as a newspaper. My brother is still honing his interpretation skills, but the raw talent is there and I've always seen it as my duty to shape it.

"Well, she's obviously not wearing it. Why do you think that is?"

His brow furrowed in thought.

"She's trying to hide the fact that she's married? But why would she do that when her husband is having lunch with her?"

I frown teasingly.

"Her husband? Are you sure about that?"

His eyes flit over the man like frightened birds before his mouth opens in a tiny 'o' of epiphany.

"He's not her husband!" He whispers conspiratorially across the table. "They're having an affair, a short one by the looks of it, she would never be able to keep up the illusion of being single if it were ongoing-"

He breaks off mid-rant, looking upset.

"Is something wrong, Will?" I ask gently.

"….Why would someone do that? If you find someone who loves you and wants to marry you, why would you mess that up?" He asks with the heartbreaking innocence only a small child can possess.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair.

"Some people don't treat love the way they should." I say simply.

"Can I get married when I'm older?" He asks cautiously, as if testing me.

"Of course, William. When you find a woman you love, I will be glad to see you married."

He ruminates on this for a moment before looking up at me through his eyelashes and cautiously whispering, "What if I find a boy I love?"

My heart breaks slightly, not because of the prospect of my younger brother being something other than heterosexual, but because Will is already so different, already such an outcast. Children his age are usually incredibly accepting, but he hadn't even been in his third year of school before his so-called peers dubbed him a freak, a weirdo. And I know the names will only get crueler as he matures. His sexual orientation will only add fuel to this fire, and I worry it may consume him. But I know he needs my approval, my support. He needs to know that he's my younger brother, and that I will never turn my back on him. So I smile gently at him and run my hand through his midnight curls.

"That doesn't change a thing, brother mine."

And his smile is worth all the heartbreak I see in his future.


End file.
